


Sometimes, There are More Important Things Than Logic Books

by Amuly



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2010-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames catches Arthur trying to read while fingering him. Eames is not amused. Ridiculous sexy-timez ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes, There are More Important Things Than Logic Books

“Arthur, darling, could you just get on with it?” Eames pushed his arse backwards onto Arthur's slender fingers, burying them deeper inside. His thighs trembled at the invasion, and his cock burned as it rubbed against the bedsheets.

When noncommittal hum was all the response he received, Eames huffed in frustration. Letting his face drop down onto the pillow, he mumbled: “First time we have sex in over a month, and we're not even having sex.” Half-heartedly Eames shoved his arse backwards again, only to wind up teasing himself with that barely-there pleasure, before he pushed his hips back down against the mattress. “You're not even _fingering_ me properly, love. What in the bloody hell is going _on_ back there?”

Arthur hummed again, and for a moment Eames' cocked twitched. Maybe there would be rimming? Arthur _had_ promised before he left that he'd try and come to terms with it while they were apart, and see how he felt about trying it out when they were together again. Eames had tried his best to help, having ridiculously filthy phone sex with Arthur where he described how delectable eating out Arthur's perfect arse could be, and then gave Arthur a sampling of the sorts of noises he could expect Eames to make, were he to return the favor. Arthur seemed to be weakening to the idea, if the dropped phones and shouted epithets during his climax those nights were any indication.

But even though Eames held his breath in anticipation, there was no face nuzzling down at his cheeks, no warm air blowing over his eager hole, and no tongue slipping out, tasting his insides. There were just Arthur's fingers, which weren't doing a _damned thing_ , besides drying him out and pissing Eames off.

Fed up, Eames turned around and grabbed at Arthur's wrist, unceremoniously pulling his fingers out of Eames. “If you're going to just-” Eames broke off mid-sentence, aghast at what he saw. Arthur – a startled, guilty Arthur – was... was... “You're _reading_ a _book_?!” Arthur's mouth opened, but Eames rushed over him. “You're _reading_ a _book_ while you're _fingering_ me?!”

Eames scrambled off the bed, successfully avoiding long fingers that snatched at his wrist and tried to hold him back. He stormed off to the bathroom, ignoring Arthur trying to follow. “No, Eames, wait...” Eames slammed the bathroom door in Arthur's face. The sound of banging filled the small room, as Eames waited for Arthur to come to some sense. “I haven't had a chance since the job began a month ago, and I started reading it on the plane, and there is _excellent_ rising action going on at the moment, and it just seemed such a shame to break the narrative flow...”

Eames ignored what Arthur was saying. Instead, he took hold of himself and started stroking, focusing on the cadence of Arthur's speech, rather than the content. He imagined that voice saying filthy, terrible, disgusting things to him: telling Eames he wanted to eat him out, describing sucking Eames' heavy, thick cock into his waiting mouth, eliciting images of come-play and felching in that ridiculous American accent.

When Arthur had quieted down, but Eames knew he was still there, he started speaking. “Do you know what I'm doing right now?” Arthur remained silent. Eames was using his phonesex voice, and he knew Arthur recognized it. “I'm fucking my fist.” Eames paused for dramatic emphasis, jerking himself rough and fast, hoping that the sounds of the _slap slap slap_ of his hand against his skin would carry through the bathroom door. “I'm fucking my fist, and imagining it's your tight hole around me.” A definite whimper carried through the door, encouraging Eames to continue. “You're so fucking hot, Arthur, and tight. _Fuck_.”

Another definite whimper, and then knocking at the door. “Eames, let me in. The book's gone. Let me in and...”

“But you know what would be better than fucking your tight, hot, slutty hole, Arthur?”

The banging at the door grew louder. Eames ignored it.

“ _You_ fucking _my_ hot. slutty. eager. wet. hole.”

Eames had to jump away as the door came off its hinges. When the debris settled, it revealed a completely wrecked Arthur standing on the other side, red erection veritably throbbing as it leaked precome. “ _Eames_.”

Arthur leapt, shoving Eames back into the bathtub and pushing into him in one movement. It was a little dry, but Eames was stretched from earlier and there was enough lube to make it bearable. As it was, he wanted rough and hard, and he keened his pleasure.

Neck bent at an awkward angle in the tub, legs held straight up in the air by Arthur, Eames howled unashamedly as Arthur started fucking his hole with all the abandon of a wild beast. His eyes were intensely focused, staring down Eames with a passion Eames had rarely seen. Eames lost himself in those eyes and the pleasure of Arthur thrusting into him over and over again, until he was shouting his release, come spurting out of him and onto his stomach. Arthur came a moment later, mouth falling open as he shouted. His exclamations were almost surprised, and Eames smiled. Well. Surprisingly good sex was always a good thing, he supposed.

As Arthur pulled out and made to get out of the tub, Eames stopped him. “No, no you don't.” With some difficulty, Eames pulled Arthur to him, forcing him to crouch a little awkwardly over his face as Eames kept his neck propped up by the odd angle of the tub. “Oh no,” Eames muttered, nuzzling at Arthur's arse, “I promised to eat you out, Arthur, and that's what I intend on doing.” He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of Arthur as he parted the cheeks of Arthur's arse with his hands. “Even if you did choose a book over me.”

Arthur's mumbled “Never again, sorry, never...” was lost in a strangled cry as Eames stuck his tongue out and lapped at Arthur's hole for the first time.

As much as he enjoyed eating another man out, Eames found the _noises_ Arthur was making to be just about the sexiest thing he had ever experienced. His cock started twitching again, feebly trying to gather its strength for another go. Eames ignored it - he might be a virile young man, but he doubted he was _that_ virile or _that_ young. Instead, he focused all his energies on the hole in front of him: lapping, kissing, sucking slightly. Arthur continued to moan and keen above him, thighs trembling in their position as he leaned against the wall of the tub and squatted above Eames.

Only once Arthur's hole was good and dripping with saliva did Eames finally push his tongue inside. Above him, Arthur cried out, voice straining and entire body tensing. A litany of “ _Eames Eames Eames Eames_ ” fell from his lips, as Arthur practically sobbed his pleasure. Curious, Eames reached a hand up, only to find Arthur rock-hard again. He pulled back for a moment, nudging his nose against the wet little pucker. “Oh, you _like_ this, don't you, darling?”

“Fucking _yes_ Eames. Now _don't. stop.”_

As much as Eames wanted to pay Arthur back for the earlier book incident, he always desperately desired to ream Arthur's arse until Arthur was fucking _blinded_ by his orgasm. So he pushed his tongue back in, slowly fucking it in and out as he worked Arthur open. The sounds coming out of Arthur's mouth were just a constant stream of almost-there orgasmic moans and sobs and cries. Precome was dribbling down his erection and to his balls, and Eames ran a finger along one of the little lines of precome teasingly. Arthur's entire body shuddered, but after a moment of stillness relaxed again. Eames was impressed.

He pulled back long enough to ask: “Did you just have a dry orgasm?”

Arthur just groaned above him. “Get... put mouth back... good...”

Eames grinned. He had never thought Arthur would enjoy rimming _this_ much. He should have suspected: filthy minx that Arthur was.

Eames pushed his tongue inside Arthur again, fucking him rapidly with it. As the trembles running through Arthur's body threatened to reach a crescendo, and the moans and cries tumbling from his mouth reached a fever pitch, Eames pulled out his coup de'grace. He pushed his tongue all the way inside, sealed his lips around Arthur's hole, and sucked hard.

Arthur came explosively, arse tightening around Eames' tongue and face, hands slapping at the tub and shouts echoing through the room. Slowly, slowly, the shudders lessened, and he lowered himself down Eames' body, until they were lying flushing in the tub. Arthur looked at Eames and blinked very, very slowly.

“Okay,” he finally said. “You were right. Now, carry me to the bed, and I'll do it for you.”

Eames raised an eyebrow. “Carry you?”

If Arthur wasn't so flush, Eames was sure he might have turned red at the question. “I... I _actually_ can't feel my legs.”

“That's new.”

Arthur rested his head against Eames' chest. He lifted a hand and carded it through Arthur's hair – in total disarray, which was just how Eames liked it. “Well. You know. It's been a month.”

“Mmhmm.” Eames didn't push the issue. He already knew his mouth was amazing. He didn't need Arthur to admit it out loud to know. “Alright, let's get you to the bed.”

Once they were comfortably back on the bed – where the whole episode should have taken place, Eames felt – Arthur rolled over onto Eames, groaning a little. “Honestly, darling,” Eames rubbed at Arthur's back. “You don't have to-”

“No.” Arthur stared determinedly – if a bit orgasm-glazed – back at Eames. “You did it, I'm going to do it. And I have to make up for the book... incident.”

Eames shrugged, but compliantly rolled onto his stomach. He wasn't about to pass up a rimjob, especially from Arthur. He was already fully hard again, which he hadn't honestly thought possible at this point in his life. Then again, Arthur's arse and mouth were quite the lethal combination, known to drive Eames to heights of orgasmic bliss previously unexplored.

At the first hesitant touch of Arthur's tongue, Eames stiffened, then quickly relaxed. Arthur lapped at him like a cat: all steady, sure strokes, consistent and constant. It was, paradoxically enough, both incredibly relaxing and arousing. Eames felt his eyes growing heavy even as his cock did the same. But he supposed he shouldn't have expected any less from Arthur – the man could make a paradox from a toothpick.

Arthur's laps become slowly more sure and exploratory. When his tongue first breached Eames' hole, he groaned into the pillow, already loose arse feeling like it was falling open beneath Arthur's mouth. There was a moment of startled confusion as Arthur pulled back and Eames tried to follow him, grunting at the loss. “What-”

“Sorry, sorry. I...” Arthur made an embarrassed noise behind Eames. “I forgot I had... my come. It's still...”

Eames stretched a little as he grasped what Arthur was getting at. “It's felching, Arthur. Suck your come right out of me.” He reached a lazy hand back and patted Arthur's thigh. “Come on. Clean me up like the dirty boy that I am.”

Arthur snorted, but Eames' lightness seemed to get him past his trepidations. A moment later the heat of Arthur's face and tongue were back, tongue pushing inside of him and lapping gently. Eames groaned, face pressed firmly against the pillow. His hips were thrusting on their own accord against the bed sheets, orgasm slowly building like a fire behind his groin. Eames felt a sudden pressure, and then Arthur was stretching him wide with both thumbs, nose pressing harder against Eames' arse as he pushed his face forward.

Eames groaned, thrusting back. _Fuck_. Arthur was so fucking _eager_ for it: burrowing his face in there like a boar hunting for truffles. Eames' cock twitched, hips pressing harder and faster against the mattress. His groans were muffled by the pillow, and soon he found himself chanting Arthur's name over and over as the other man buried his face, tongue, and thumbs in Eames' arse, searching for every last drop of his own come. Over the sound of his own desperate noises, Eames heard Arthur begin to whimper: pleasurable little quiet noises in the back of his throat.

Eames whited out as he came.

As they were lying together, drifting to sleep, Eames mustered up the energy to ask “What book were you reading?”

Arthur hmmed, snuggled into Eames' chest. If he didn't know already that they had just had _amazing_ sex, this little gesture from Arthur would have told Eames. Arthur only snuggled when his guard was down and mind delirious from orgasm. “Not important.”

Eames frowned, poking at Arthur. “Hey, wait. You can't just say 'not important'. What was it?”

With a sigh Arthur rolled off Eames, hand scrambling around at the dresser for a moment before rolling back, tossing a book onto Eames' chest. “On Formally Undecidable Propositions of Principia Mathematica and Related Systems,” Eames carefully read. “By Kurt Gödel.”

The only reason Eames didn't smack Arthur with his own book was because the other man was already asleep. And he just looked too damn cute like that.

Sighing to himself, Eames thumbed open the book and began to read.

He was asleep before he finished the first page.

 


End file.
